IT’S 3am, I’m off my face in an Aberdeen nightclub and I’m the chancellor of the Duchy of f**king Lancaster. Here’s the lowdown:
My best f**king mate. Yeah we’ve had our ups and downs and shit, who hasn’t? But that bastard might lie and cheat and you wouldn’t leave him alone with your wife, well I would because she’s a vinegary old bitch, but what was I saying? Boris. Top lad. Sound.
Go on, son. Go on. You’ve had a twat of a year, the wife’s got long Covid which she’s making out is your fault, and finally the hot aide comes through with the goods. Right there in the office. Legend. Did a shit job on the pandemic mind.
F**king car crash mate. Absolute shitstorm. You wait till f**king Christmas. Well we never thought it’d win did we? Eight weeks off work, lads on tour on a bus round the country to shaft Cameron and those thick bastards only go and vote for it. But you roll with the punches, you know?
Recreational drug use
Not saying anything. You won’t get me, I see your phone. Let’s just say the Tories are men of the people on this one, you know what I’m saying? Representing our constituents all the way. Jesus the shit Gideon used to get. So pure you got a nosebleed looking at it.
All for it son. To the hilt. And Northern Ireland. Don’t tell the Queen, that’s all, but sooner the better. Love it up here, love it, but economically you’re 300,000 square miles of hills and dead weight. No offence but it’s facts.
Hilarious. The trouble that dude’s dick gets him into. She’s sixty grand into an overdraft in his name at Coutts before he even finds out. He’s desperate to lose the next election so he can get her dumped and get that Telegraph cheddar, but that useless prick Starmer cannot hit an open bloody goal.
Getting some cans in and going back somewhere
Well up for it mate. Well up. It’s on me, I’ve got the office credit card, you provide the gaff and I’ll get the booze. Get the DJ back as well because this set is banging. And we need some kebabs.